


Wish That You Were Here

by Quiiet



Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: (The mild smut and implied non-con are NOT for the same thing), F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internal Conflict, Masturbation, Mild Smut, Nightmares, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiiet/pseuds/Quiiet
Summary: She was on autopilot the entire flight back to his apartment. Even as Chuck opened the door for her and spoke animatedly of his weekend, Ivy kept staring off at things unseen and listening to the pitched ringing in her ears.She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this to him.How was she suppose to do this?
Relationships: Charles "Chuck" Brown/Pamela Isley, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 118





	Wish That You Were Here

She was on autopilot the entire flight back to his apartment. Even as Chuck opened the door for her and spoke animatedly of his weekend, Ivy kept staring off at things unseen and listening to the pitched ringing in her ears. 

_Tears filled Harley's eyes as she spoke and Ivy could feel her own eyes heating so intensely that she had to look away. Shame had been brewing in the pit of her stomach since they boarded the invisible jet and now it threatened to bubble and boil up her throat. As she walked away, her back to her best friend, a small voice kept screaming in her mind to stop. To turn around. To go back. To wipe those tears away. To confess. To--_

"Babe?"

Ivy jolted at the hand on her shoulder, suddenly remembering where she actually was. She didn't even remember sitting down at the table, but was thankful as a wave of nausea and faintness overcame her. Her face came to rest in her palms and she sighed deeply, willing the sick feeling in her stomach and chest to go away.

"You okay? I'd say you're looking a little green but, ya'know." Chuck asked with a smile and bit of a laugh. He stepped around to crouch in front of her, taking her wrists in his hands and gently revealing her pained expression to him. "Hey," He started slowly, his smile vanishing instantly, "what's wrong?" He paused then added, "We don't have to have chili if you don't want to."

"It's not-" Ivy started, her voice more hoarse than she'd like it to be. She finally met his gaze and instantly regretted it, her stomach rolling at how concerned he looked for her. The tightness in her chest was close to suffocating her and the ringing in her ears was returning with a vengeance. She stood abruptly, causing Chuck to stumbled off his haunches and flat on his ass. She had to get out. She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this to _him._

_How was she suppose to do this?_

"Pam-"

"I'm gonna go take a bath." She choked out, striding towards the bathroom and throwing the door closed behind her. 

Locked inside and alone, Ivy felt relief rolling down her shoulders and the tension in her rib cage lifting, but the sickness in her stomach remained. She gripped the sides of the sink basin and hunched over it, unsure if she was going to heave into it or just scream. Refusing to do either, she chose a third option and instead turned the sink on, splashing cool water in her face. Stopping the water, Ivy's gaze lifted to the mirror and she took in her disheveled appearance with a grimace. She looked like shit; her eyes hollow and ringed with dark circles, her lips pressed in a tight line, her hair dripping from the water. 

_Guilty,_ she thought, _I look guilty._

Ivy didn't wait for the tub to finish filling before she stripped and stepped in, bringing her knees to her chest and making herself as small as possible. Frustrated tears made their way down her cheeks and she huffed at their betrayal.

As if she had any leg to stand on when it came to betrayal.

Her mind became clouded with thoughts, scenarios of how Chuck would react. He'd be angry, she'd understand. He'd be upset, she'd know. He'd be heartbroken, she-

_She was heartbroken. Harley wore her emotions on her face and her heart on her sleeve, and Ivy knew as she spoke that the anguished look in those blue eyes was a whole new kind of hurt. Before that moment, Ivy would have sworn that she had seen Harley at her absolute worst in terms of heartbreak, but she wasn't so sure anymore._

It was terrifying. To think that Harley was more affected by Ivy's calm words than she ever was by anything the Joker (to Ivy's knowledge at least) ever did to her sent shivers down her spine. Did this make her worse than him?

 _No,_ She thought, snapping out of her mind and reaching forward to shut the water off, _I'm nothing like that bastard. Stop with the fucking pity-party, Isley._

Forcing herself to uncurl, Ivy placed her arms on the edges of the tub and stretched out, closing her eyes and relaxing into the hot water. She tried to keep herself present, away from the angry and frustrated emotions and the pained and melancholy thoughts. Pulling her arms into the water and sinking down further, Ivy release a long sigh and tried to focus on what was around her.

Her toes were curled and pressed against the end of the tub, her knees were slightly chilly from being above water, her arms left a comforting weight as they rested across her stomach, her hair was tickling her shoulders, the water was gently lapping at the side of her neck...

_The tongue on her neck sent a delicious shiver down her spine, unexpected but not unwelcome. She drew her neck out further, praying the silent plea for it again would be enough. Neither had said a word yet, only the sounds of their feverish kisses and soft moans accompanied them from the club back to the room. Ivy wasn't sure she wanted to say anything, afraid that if she did it would all stop - reveal itself to be a dream or extremely wishful thinking or --_

_It happened again and Ivy couldn't contain her groan of pleasure at the sensation. She pressed herself further into the woman behind her, wanting to be closer despite their bodies already embraced. Harley greeted her with a rough and uncoordinated thrust of her hips and more kisses along her neck, nibbling her way up behind an ear before taking a broad lick back down to her shoulder._

_The hand that had wandered it's way down her body and into her panties came to rest right where Ivy needed it, refusing to go anywhere or do anything more that tap slowly against her. Ivy tried to continue wordlessly guiding Harley, flexing her hips and moaning earnestly to try and spur her forward, but the blonde remained still. She just kept her mouth on her neck, sucking lightly at the skin there and occasionally drifting up to her jaw to press kisses along it. It felt amazing, it felt right, but it wasn't what she needed._

_Tired of the teasing and nearly shaking from need, Ivy grabbed Harley by the forearm and urged her further down, putting her exactly where she needed her and gasping at the now firm contact. "Show me." Harley told her, letting her hand go limp. Biting her lip and feeling her face burn, Ivy trailed her own hand further down Harley's arm until it took over. Her movements were careful, almost shy despite the fact that she was guiding and knew what she liked and wanted. Focused on the thought of it being Harley's hand instead of her own, Ivy began circling just above her clitoris and gasped._

_"Like that?" Harley whispered from behind her. Ivy felt the blonde's chin come to rest on her shoulder and let her take control of the motion. The circles became tighter and firmer, moving lowers each rotation until it was becoming too much too fast. Ivy tried to warn her, but when the wet kisses to her neck returned she could do no more than moan shamelessly. The other hand followed the curve of her body up and under the tank top and gently cupped a breast, lithe fingers stroking at her nipple through the bra. It was a tease, a hint at what could be should she say something, but there was only one word Ivy could now mindlessly breathe out: "H-Harley..."_

_Her hips had begun rocking and trembling at the pleasure. She was painfully close to orgasm, panting and moaning with each pitch forward._

_Harley was back in her ear again, her breath hot and her voice raspy as she herself moaned languidly._

_"Pamela."_

Ivy's thighs clenched around her own wrist and she released a near-silent gasp at her orgasm, going limp after a few moments and breathing heavily.

"-mela?" The knock on the door had her sitting up right in seconds, her eyes wide and her hands rushing to cover herself despite the door never having opened. "Pam?" Chuck called again, "You okay in there? You've been in there for a while and I wanted to make sure you didn't fall asleep."

"I-I'm fine." She replied, "I'll get out in just a second." The water she sat in had long since gone cold. How long had she been in here?

"Hey, don't worry! Take your time, I was just worried is all! I left you some chili in the oven when you're done, should still be warm!"

Ivy pulled herself out of the tub as she called her thanks, reaching for a towel on shaky legs and wringing her hair out. _Stupid,_ she berated herself, _fucking idiot! It was all a mistake, that's what you said! And yet here you are, getting off to it! What the fuck is wrong with you, Isley? Christ on a bike..._

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and reached up to feel the tears on her face to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Her chest ached as the word 'mistake' continued echoing in her mind, the heart she swore that never beat throbbing painfully. It felt awful -- beyond awful. It felt human. It reminded her of feeling human, of primal fear and rage and pain and agony. Pamela dressed herself with shaky hands and begged for the anguish in her chest and motley of emotions to go away. It was hard to catch her breath, her fingers seeming to lose feeling and her vision blurring. The bathroom felt stuffy, the walls closing in on her. Her hands struggled to find the door, hysteria rising in Pamela's chest until she finally found it and thrust it open with her body.

Stumbling into the living room and collapsing to her knees, Pamela curled into herself and tried to hide away. Chuck was beside her in seconds, his hands hovering carefully over her as he leaned down to try and talk to her. "I'm fine...I'm fine." She kept repeating, more to herself, her body involuntarily rocking from side to side in attempts to calm her down. 

Chuck carefully lifted her out of the floor and into his arms. Pamela shrank into the warmth of his chest, letting herself become lost in the safety of his arms and relaxing a little. Her hands were covering her face still and she kept up her weak mantra of 'I'm fine'.

"You're not." Chuck said very suddenly, causing the woman to freeze all over. "But that's okay, I'm here to help -- whatever you need. Are you hungry? I can make you some chicken noodle soup, or some tea maybe?"

"No," Ivy rasped, avoiding his concerned gaze, "I'm just...tired." Nodding along, Chuck stood with her and turned towards his bedroom. "No!" Ivy yelled, forcing herself to calm down and adding quietly, "I just...can I sleep on the couch tonight? I-I don't want to..." _Be around you, touch you, infect you, hurt you--_ "...get you sick too."

"I really want to argue and say you take the bed and I take the couch, but I know better than to try and argue with you when you're not feeling too hot. Still look it though! Sorry, that's counter-productive, lets get you settled in."

The couch was quickly covered in an assortment of pillows and blankets for her, the TV remote and console controller placed beside a tall glass of ice water on the coffee table. A half-empty bag of menthol cough drops were also placed near her and a humidifier was almost brought in before Ivy insisted it was all too much. "I know...I just want to make sure you're gonna be okay." Her fiancé sighed. "I mean, I'll only be a room away but these are all for 'just-in-case-ies', ya'know? Oh! I almost forgot! Let me get you a bucket just in case you--"

"Charles." Ivy urged with a tight smile, "It's fine. I can take care of myself."

The frown on his face shouldn't have hurt her as much as it did, but it didn't come close to the pain his next words brought on. "But I don't want you to have to take care of yourself. Sickness and health, right? I wanna show you that I mean that, okay, because you deserve to have someone take care of you. Even for just a little while."

Unable to speak and close to tears again, Pamela turned into the couch and brought the blankets up to her ears as she murmured a quick 'good-night'. She was left with a quick kiss to the top of the head and the overhead light flicked off, a door closed, and she was left alone in the darkness.

She had no intention of actually sleeping, didn't think it was even in the realm of possibilities. Sure, she was tired, but her mind and heart seemed to be a race to see which could combust the quickest. Everything that had happened was running through her mind. The pit, the kiss, Themyscira, the sex, the talk at sunrise, the flight back, the rejection, Harley's tears -- it all hurt. It was overwhelming and terrifying. It made Ivy wish that she had just ignored everything from the start and returned to her life of solitude. 

Such a thought used to be blasphemous to her. Her life was suppose to be better now, marriage, friends, love...

 _Is it really worth the pain?_ Pamela asked herself. _I never minded being alone. Hell, I loved it. But I love this more._

Tears traced down her cheeks and she tried to swallow the sob that built up from her next thought.

_I love her more._

_But it's all ruined now. I ruined it. I let this happen. It's my fault._

Pamela quietly wept into the pillow and allowed exhaustion to drag her under, whispering the promise of safety in sleep from the things that plagued her. Sleep didn't gently come for her, more that it knocked her over the head with a bat and dragged her limp body into a ditch. She was grateful for it either way, relaxing at the thought of having a reprieve and letting one last desperate and weak sob out.

"I wish that you were here..."

The spotlight hurt her eyes, a hand voluntarily coming up to shield her face from it. Once her eyes had adjusted, Pamela took in the stage and empty audience, her gaze moving to the entrance to the pit and the starlit sky above it. She glanced out into the audience again, straining her eyes to try and find someone. She was about to call out when soft hands took her own.

Harley took a step closer to her, looking up at her with a sincere smile. "It would be so much fun, wouldn't it?" Ivy tried to take a step back but Harley followed her, blue eyes pleading, "Just the two of us against the world."

"Yeah, it would." Ivy admitted with a half-smile. "It could. But Harley, I have to know." Her voice cracked as she asked, "Would you leave me?"

"I said it'd be just the two of us, didn't I? What are you so afraid of?"

Something caught her eye and she turned her head to look at the empty chairs, finding two now occupied. Their faces were obscured, but she knew exactly who they were just by their expensive clothes and rigid posture. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she suddenly felt small. Even though she couldn't see their eyes, Pamela still shrank under the scrutiny of her parents and pulled her back to herself.

"Ive," Harley started toward her again with her own hands out in offering, "c'mon. Don't you want to feel like this all the time?" Pamela blinked and Harley's hands were covered in blood. Jerking back at the sight and bringing her own hands to her chest, she froze at what she touched. Staring down at her chest, Pamela gaped at the bloody red mess the harpoon had made of her chest. It shouldn't be red, was all she could think of, why is it red?

Harley didn't seem fazed by the open wound or harpoon, still trying to step closer with that sweet smile on her face. "I love you, Ive."

Gasping for air and frenzied, Ivy stumbled back until her knees hit something and she was forced to sit. "It's not love." She choked out, "It's not love. It's not love. It's not love." Curling into herself and hiding behind her hands, the words kept tumbling out of her mouth, insisting it be true to all that could hear it.

The gentle tug and pull of her hair was becoming hard to ignore. The more she focused on it and the careful hands that weaved the less panicked she was. Releasing a long sigh and sitting up from her hunched position, Ivy glared through the corners of her eyes and demanded, "Why are you braiding my hair?"

Sy seemed to be immune to her venomous look and words, continuing his work with an off-tune hum. "Cause I'm bored and it calms me down!" He said plainly, "Seems to calm you down too, kid. So, who broke it this time?"

"What?"

He nudged his head forward and repeated, "Who broke it this time?"

Ivy followed his gesture to stare at the glass coffee table before them, shards of glass shattered in every which way and covering the floor of her apartment. "Probably the first person to break it coming back to do it again." She muttered with a sigh, dragging a hand down her face, "I'll clean it up later and get a replacement."

"How many times has it broken?"

"Too damn many, Sy."

"And yet you're the one always left to pick up the pieces, eh? That's unfair. I can see why you don't trust people."

"I don't trust people for a multitude of reasons, not just because they break my stuff! And will you cut it out! Why are you still braiding my hair?"

"Because he's coming." Sy said more seriously, his brow furrowing.

"What does that even mean?"

The old man stopped for a moment and met her eyes, his expression stoic. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, kid. It's not your job to fix everything. Especially when _you_ are in need of fixin'." Ivy started to open her mouth to argue but he waved her off and continued. "There comes a time when you gotta ask yourself 'is it worth repeating so many past mistakes and all the ruined pride?'. Especially when they take everything in stride and don't think about you. Are you willing to risk the chance of it breaking again?"

"A coffee table can be replaced."

"But how many times will you let it before you go off your rocker again? When do you decide 'enough is enough' and let it stay broken?"

"Pamela." The voice called to her, a new figured approaching. It's silhouette looked like Harley, but the closer to the light it drew the longer and taller the shadow became. It's limbs grew lanky and thin, almost hunched into itself as it grew into a distorted visage of what a human should be. Ivy clenched her fists at the sudden dread filling her stomach at the familiar swaggering walk it had and stopped breathing entirely when it came into view.

Wrinkled slacks, woolen sweater, and a too big lab coat. Glowing syringe in hand, square glasses reflecting light, brown hair unkempt and peppered with grey, and an ominous smile growing across his face. Jason Woodrue stopped just before the shattered coffee table, stepping on some of the glass and letting it crunch under his loafers. 

Sitting as still as she could and somehow praying it would be enough for him not to see her, Pamela felt bile rising up her throat as the man's gaze bore holes straight through her. Her wide eyes trailed down to the poison he held in his hand and felt the veins in her arm ignite into pain. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth -- surely from the sedatives he slipped her -- and tears blurred her vision. 

Woodrue's smile only widened and he softly hushed her. "It's alright, Pam. Just be a good girl and hold still for me. Just like before." He started forward, ignoring the glass under foot as he shuffled closer. "You were so good for me when we fucked, can't you show me that again? It'll only hurt for a moment, I promise. Just lie still, like before, and let me do what I have to do. My precious flower, my sweet girl, _mine._ "

Her entire body was shaking from terror as he reached out to put a hand atop her head, petting her hair like one would a dog and giving her more worthless praises. Pamela followed his other hand as it lifted the syringe to her wrist, the needle just beginning to prick her skin when he said with a chuckle, "Don't you want to feel like this all the time? I love you, Pam."

As the toxins entered her body, Pamela felt her body seize in agony. She couldn't breath or control her movements, slowly collapsing onto the couch and curling into a ball of tensed muscles and silent tears. She could feel it spreading, the burning sensation racing up her neck and down to her toes. Woodrue just stood over her smiling, watching in rapture as she died and died again and again. Her vision dimmed until it went black, all at once returning to show her Harley now standing before her holding the syringe with the same sadistic grin. " _Be a good girl,_ " Harley said in Woodrue's voice, " _and let me love you._ "

The scream tore her throat and somehow pained her more than the toxins but Pamela fought through the pain and kept shrieking, hoping someone would hear her cries for help. But she knew better. No one would come. No one ever came. She was alone. She was dying. She was breaking, her mind fracturing and her body tearing itself apart from the inside out. Pamela was unraveling and there was no stopping it. There would be nothing left soon, just a lifeless corpse that would be brought back to life again and again. There would be only misery and wrath, nothing but a shell of the girl she was suppose to be. She would be broken like before. 

She fought against the hands holding her wrists, flailing and kicking at the firm body beside her in attempts to get free. She never once stopped screaming, begging and pleading for him to stop hurting her. 

"Babe!? Hey hey hey, it's me! Pam!" Ivy found herself tucked tightly into an embrace, her head held firmly but gently against a broad chest as she was rocked back and forth. "It's okay," Chuck whispered, "it was just a nightmare. You're okay." Her screams trailed off, her mind catching up and easing her into her fiancé's hold. Ivy let herself calm and take in his warmth, hiding her face away as bitter tears fell from her eyes.

They sat in the silence, Ivy's soft weeping and sniffs the only noise in the whole apartment. When her cries seemed to subside, Chuck quietly asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Frustration and guilt returned and with it her sobs. Her face grew hot from the feelings and she dug her nails into his bathrobe tightly.

"I..."

_Tell him._

"I just..."

_Tell him!_

"..."

_Tell him the truth!_

"I just don't feel well." Ivy whispered in defeat.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Cold pack or Midol or that chicken noodle soup?"

It wasn't fair to him.

"No."

It wasn't fair to _her_.

It wasn't fair to not know what she wanted. Everything her mind wanted was in conflict with her heart. There were too many 'what-if's?' and too many traumatic memories that refused to fade away. There was just too much. And Pamela was tired.

"Could you braid my hair?"

**Author's Note:**

> okay so fair warning (and unpopular opinion?): i dont hate kiteman. i kinda like his character and view him as your run of the mill, dumb of ass himbo that just found himself in an unfortunate situation. dont get me wrong, im rooting for the gals (and have been since the 90s with the animated series) but i dont mind 1(one) kite wearing idiot.


End file.
